


Older

by thepocketdragon



Series: Sing to me Instead [11]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Roommates, bechloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28896456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepocketdragon/pseuds/thepocketdragon
Summary: "One day, you’ll look back and realise all the time life was right there but instead of opening up and letting it in, you sat behind a closed door waiting for it to knock"Beca's grandma isn't getting any younger and she's sick of waiting for her granddaughter to realise what's right in front of her.Maybe a little meddling would help to open her eyes...Bechloe one shot. Set in New York (pre PP3).
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Series: Sing to me Instead [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021515
Comments: 11
Kudos: 98





	Older

**Author's Note:**

> Since so many of you asked for a sequel to 'Share Your Address', I thought I'd bring back Beca's mom and grandma for another one shot. 
> 
> As always, these one shots are inspired by individual tracks on Ben Platt's 'Sing to me Instead' album. 
> 
> Special shout out to Theresa/iPhone for being a sounding board to let me figure out my headcanon for Beca's early (mis)adventures in liking girls.

Chloe’s feet hurt.

She’s walking down 57th Street towards Park Avenue, not a normal part of her day or even her week. In fact, she can count on one hand the amount of times she’s strolled down this particular thoroughfare since she moved to New York after college. Maybe it’s because Brooklyn has everything two twenty-something women could really need. Maybe it’s because they both have jobs in different neighbourhoods. Or maybe it’s because this- wandering around the bustling centre of Manhattan after dark- is something reserved for tourists.

They aren’t tourists, not after six months of city living, but their guests are.

Maybe that’s why Beca had suggested they take the ‘long way’ after dinner.

So, Chloe smiles through the pain and continues to follow Beca’s convoluted sightseeing route.It somehow takes them from the restaurant to the hotel whilst also taking in the edge of Central Park, Rockefeller Center and- for some unexplained reason- the Consulate General of the Republic of Korea. Chloe doesn’t quite get why but, as they approach that particular building, Beca can hardly keep herself from laughing out loud.

Her mom joins in. Chloe hears just how similar they sound. It warms her heart to hear them both. It’s been a long time since they’ve been together and Chloe knows just how happy Beca is right now.

It’s at that moment that Beca’s grandmother appears beside Chloe and links through her arm.

“Ignore them” she says gently. “It’s a very old joke from when Beca was a kid and I honestly doubt either of them can remember why it’s funny.” As the laughter grows, she sighs audibly. “I raised a pair of idiots. Honestly.”

Chloe can’t help but reminisce about the last time she had seen Beca’s mom and her grandmother, back when she had visited them in Seattle. She remembers, distinctly, that it was Beca’s mom- Laura- lamenting a very similar fact. Chloe smiles, but keeps her thoughts to herself.

“Beca’s really glad you could both make it.”

It had been a rushed, tentative question on Beca’s part. She had a free weekend which overlapped with the week her mom had told her she had already booked as vacation time. The trip to New York would be expensive and, with such a small apartment, booking a hotel was a necessary but hefty additional cost. Beca had worried about even asking, knowing her mom would feel obliged to come. She had been desperate to see her, but had tried to play it down when she asked casually if the pair of women who had raised her would like to visit the Big Apple for a few days.

Chloe watches on, sees how Beca leans into Laura as she walks, and knows she made the right choice.

“So, Chloe.” Beca’s grandma- Chloe still needs to get her head around calling her ‘Maggie’- isn’t frail, but she holds onto her as she walks. “Is New York City living everything it’s cracked up to be? How are you finding it?”

“It’s good.” Chloe can’t complain. She has somewhere to live, she has enough money in her pocket to pay the rent and eat and she has a job at a veterinary clinic where, if she works hard enough, one day she won’t be the person volunteered to jam their hand up a cow’s ass every time it’s needed. “I’m just glad I’m doing it with Beca.” She pauses, reminding herself just how carefully she needs to choose her words when she’s talking to Beca’s sharp-as-an-arrow grandmother. “I mean, living here with her. I couldn’t do it alone.”

“She couldn’t either.” Maggie pauses and smiles. “She’d be a state if she was out here on her own. I mean, when she used to go on and on about moving to LA, my blood would run cold. Not because I didn’t think she’d be successful, but because she’s not as tough as she believes she is. She’s Scrappy Doo. She needs someone to keep her out of trouble.”

Chloe nods assuredly while she tries not to give away that she’s picturing Beca, fists in the air, shouting “lemme at ‘em!”

“See? This is why I’m glad you moved together. I like you, Chloe. You’re good for her.”

The way Maggie looks at her, with a pointed glare from her stern blue eyes, tips Chloe off to the idea that, maybe, their conversation isn’t just about sharing an apartment.

At least, that’s what Chloe hopes.

“Thanks.”

They walk in silence for a while longer until they see the hotel in the distance. Chloe’s feet cry out in relief until it dawns on her that, after they’ve dropped the two women to the door, she and Beca have got to navigate their way back out to Bushwick and then climb the three flights of stairs to their front door thanks to the perpetually broken elevator in their building.

She glances ahead to Beca who, smartly, is wearing Vans, and wonders whether she could carry her. Her eyes track Beca’s spindly upper arms and almost immediately decides that the answer is a firm ‘no’.

“Can I ask what you want to do next, Chloe? Did I hear Beca say something about veterinary college?”

Chloe listens to Maggie’s question as they walk. She nods her head. “I think so. I mean, I’m not entirely set. I always wanted to be a teacher when I was younger, but I also love working with animals. It… it’s a hard course and it’s another round of school and student debt but I think it would be worth it.”

“Hmm.” Chloe is still intimidated by Maggie. She’s as sharp-tongued and sharp-witted as her granddaughter, but- unlike Beca- her thoughts come out fully-formed rather than in a garbled mess. “I guess you have to think about what’s best for you. You and your future.”

Chloe thinks about the future a lot. She always has done. There’s a degree of lingering anxiety about change, the same lingering anxiety that had kept her back at Barden for far too many attempts at senior year. Deep down, she knows the reason she’s in this city in the first place is because of Beca.

She doesn’t like to imagine a future without her in it.

It’s her imagination that keeps her quiet until they cross the street.

“Chloe?” They’re almost outside the hotel doors now. Chloe can see a doorman in a red jacket and a gold trolley piled high with suitcases. “Can I give you some advice?”

“Of course.” Chloe hopes her apprehension doesn’t show in her eyes.

Maggie moves her hand from her elbow to her wrist and holds it firm. “If there’s anything I have learned as I’ve gotten older, its that life… life isn’t something you chase. It’s something you _make._ The future isn’t something to be feared; you’re in the driver’s seat and you’re the only one who can get yourself to wherever you’re going. You can plan the route all you want, but the truth? The truth is that, in order to move anywhere, you have to turn the key. Otherwise you’re just waiting. And for what? Time doesn’t stop.”

She pauses and Chloe feels her watching, waiting for her to say something. When she doesn’t, Maggie glances to where Beca is hugging her mom goodbye before turning back with a sparkle in her eye. “As my granddaughter used to very loudly sing at me, in an orange wig she had for halloween one year, ‘tomorrow is always a day away’.”

Chloe can’t help the laugh that escapes her. “Oh my god. Seriously?”

  
Maggie’s smile grows as she winks at her. “There’s video evidence” she whispers, before pulling her into a hug. “Maybe one day I’ll show you.”

* * *

Beca can’t quite put into words how much she’s missed her family.

She’s missed the way they put her at ease and the way everything feels effortless. She’s missed the silly jokes and the teasing and- to some degree- she’s even missed the way they have to hurl themselves around her grandma like she’s an unexploded grenade every time she gets that glint in her eye and opens her mouth.

It’s enough to make her homesick, but it doesn’t.

Beca can’t help but suspect that Chloe has a lot to do with the reason why.

She can’t help but wonder whether it’s also the reason why, every time a prospectus turns up in the mail from yet another college in some far-flung corner of the country, she’s hit with a wave of panic.

This morning, the brochure is from UC Davis. It wouldn’t be an issue, and would fit quite nicely on the pile next to all of the others, but Beca can’t help but notice the way this one has a little green post-it note marking out one particular page. Chloe is already on her way to work and Beca knows she shouldn’t invade her privacy, but she can’t help herself.

When she notices that the bookmarked page is the one entitled ‘postgraduate accommodation options’, she slams the booklet shut and picks up her bag.

It’s hard to pretend to be fine in front of the two people who know her best. With her dad, she could easily operate at about 90% of her usual capacity and keep the other 10 for overthinking and he wouldn’t notice. Her mom and grandma? They’re like a crack team of detectives.

For a while, Beca manages to keep the conversation on other things. She asks about her grandma’s low-level old-lady gambling ring and her mom’s new-found love of pottery. She keeps it light and loose and goes up to the buffet for a second time the minute the conversation looks like it might head towards her.

She may have changed in many ways since high school, but Beca Mitchell will always be the master of avoidance.

Or, she would be, if it weren’t for people with absolutely zero respect for the walls she’s desperately trying to assemble from the rubble on the ground.

One of those people is Chloe.

The other, unsurprisingly, is the old woman sat across from her.

“Your mom had to pee.”

The stare Beca gets is an open invitation to talk. She knows the look well. It’s the same look she got the day her dad gave her the ultimatum about going to college. It’s the look she got when she couldn’t find the words to explain she was going to move to New York City after graduation instead of moving back to the west coast. It’s the look she got when she tried to hide how upset she was when Naomi from next door went to live with her mom and her new boyfriend in Cleveland when she was 12 years old.

“Speak, my child.”

“Grandma…”

The look changes. The eyebrow goes up and Beca feels the same inescapable dread she did when she was six and had tried to lie about who had knocked the lid off of the cookie jar. Before she knows it, her mouth is open and words are spilling out.

“Chloe’s looking at colleges in California.”

Beca isn’t quite sure what she expects her grandma to say, but it certainly isn’t for her to roll her eyes and exhaustedly say “here we go again.”

“Excuse me?”

Beca’s response is genuine. She has no idea where her grandma is going with this. As far as she knows, unless there is an alternate universe out there or her grandma is some kind of time lord (she wouldn’t put it past her), this is the first time she’s ever mentioned Chloe and California in the same sentence. To anyone.

Her grandma reaches across the table and takes her hand. It’s a soft gesture but Beca fights it and pulls back just an inch or two before she relents.

“Bee, you are beautiful and I love you but my sweet baby Jesus when it comes to stuff like this you’re as dumb as a wet noodle.”

“Who’s dumb?” Laura re-approaches the table, eyes darting between her mother and her daughter. “I don’t care which one of you started it, but I already paid so let’s get out of here before you two end up brawling like a couple of out-of-shape high school wrestlers.”

Beca groans but follows dutifully, trying to ignore the way her grandma smiles smugly in her periphery.

“So, how’s work?”

They are finally alone again as Beca and her grandma try their best to follow Laura through the vast shop floor of Bloomingdale’s. She’s on a mission to find a birthday gift for her friend from work and Beca knows from experience that it could take a while. Laura Forrest likes gifts with meaning and she loves department stores. Beca doesn’t have the excuse of limited time and so she answers.

“Work? It… it’s fine. I mean, my boss is an ass and my clients are awful but it’s paying the bills.”

“Leave.”

Beca stops in her tracks and turns to face her grandma. “What?”

“I said, baby, leave. If you’re not happy, don’t waste time hanging around. Find something new. Do… do whatever it is you want to do. Follow your heart or your dreams or whatever else they put on those notebooks at the dollar store. Unicorns are real? I don’t know. It’s all bullshit, but the sentiment is there.”

It takes a moment for Beca to look her in the eye. She doesn’t do sincerity at the best of times, and especially not when she’s already teetering on the edge. She knows her grandma is trying to keep things light, but there’s a candour to her words that is hard to overlook.

“Don’t wait. Otherwise, one day, you’ll look back and realise all the time life was right there but instead of opening up and letting it in, you sat behind a closed door waiting for it to knock.”

Beca wishes, sometimes, that she recorded these conversations. She wants to remember every word. This will make it. She thinks it might be more important than she realises. Her grandma, however, seems to know exactly what she’s saying.

It takes Beca a moment more to catch on. “We’re not just talking about work anymore, are we?”

“Finally.” Beca’s grandma slips her hand around her elbow as they walk. “It’s not in my wheelhouse to be subtle about any of this, but I’m trying to respect your boundaries and give you time to figure it out on your own.”

Beca smiles. “Is that what mom told you?”

Maggie nods. “Yep. The moment we left the cafe earlier. Apparently you’re a grown woman.” Beca’s grandma looks her up and down and shrugs. “Don’t seem that grown to me, though.”

“Hey!”

She smiles. “Chill out, Scrappy Doo. Now, my bladder is calling me. Where can a broad take a piss in this place?”

Once again, Beca wishes she was recording their conversation. If only to share with Chloe later.

She misses Chloe even more when she follows her mom and grandma back to their hotel room. Her shift won’t finish for a few more hours and it makes sense for Beca to head back home later and pick up dinner on the way. The ‘old ladies’ (they both hate that she calls them that) have tickets for a broadway show that Beca has absolutely zero interest in seeing but she makes the decision to hang out with them while they get ready.

Beca hadn’t anticipated her mom opting to fill the luxurious bath tub in the hotel room the moment they got back.

Laura can spend hours soaking in the tub and Beca knows the moment she hears Norah Jones floating through from the tinny speakers on her phone that there’s no avoiding the knowing look in her grandma’s eye. They’re alone without a referee.

“I can offer you bitter as shit coffee or a mouthful of diet coke that will cost approximately $15.” Maggie is dragging her hand across the poor array of mini bar snacks as she waits for her coffee to brew.

Beca waves her hand dismissively at her grandma’s offer. “I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine, I just wondered if you were thirsty but suit yourself.”

Her phone makes a ‘ding’ and she pulls it out of her bag. It’s nothing much, just a quick message from Chloe to say that she’s observing some surgery. It terrifies Beca slightly that she can sense the excitement through the screen. She taps back a quick message to say as such and slides her phone into her pocket.

“Chloe?” Her grandma doesn’t miss a trick. “I can tell. It’s written all over your face.”

Beca thinks there’s an opportunity to ask ‘why’, but she doesn’t quite dare. Not yet. Instead, she takes a breath and waits for her grandma to slide into the seat opposite her at the tiny table she’s certain nobody ever really sits at.

“Do you remember when the next-door kid, that girl, moved away?”

Beca nods. She’s confused about where this is going but twenty-two years of experience have taught her never to anticipate what comes out of her grandma’s mouth.

“You were heartbroken. Truly heartbroken. I remember your little face and the way you tried to pretend you hadn’t been crying when you came back in from watching the truck drive away down the street.” Beca had been 12 years old.

“She was my best friend.”

“Mhmm.” It’s a non-committal sound, but it’s loaded with something Beca can’t quite grasp. “And Chloe is….”

“My best friend.”

Maggie takes a sip of her coffee. “I’ve had enemas that tasted better than this.” She puts down the cup and adds more sugar and more cream. Beca simply rolls her eyes, deciding against starting an argument about type 2 diabetes. It is a moment before either of them speak again.

“You know, I have never had any expectations when it comes to you. Not… not like your dad. Or even your mom. I just always wanted you to flourish and find your own way. I wanted to show you, in any way I could, that life is for living. It’s for living as the person you truly are. The rest of it is a waste of time.”

“Grandma, what…?”

Beca’s question is lost in the air. Her grandmother leans in closer, her gaze firm. “You can’t make choices based on what other people expect of you, no matter how powerful you may think they are. You… you’re young and young people make mistakes but you learn by _feeling_ , not by thinking.”

“So I should quit my job?”

“If that would make you happy.”

“I don’t know if it would. Not right now, anyway.”

Beca hears her grandma sigh. And then she hits her with a question she knows she will never forget. “Well, what would make you happy?”

The answer comes to her in a heartbeat and Beca swallows. Hard.

Her grandma doesn’t say anything more.

She doesn’t have to.

* * *

Chloe’s head has not been on work all day.

Instead, between taking the temperature of a possibly arthritic dachshund and re-stocking the shelves in the store room, Maggie’s words play on her mind.

By the time she gets out of the clinic, it’s all she can think about.

She knows she can’t call Beca, she’s still in the city. Plus, she realises, this is a conversation she needs to have with someone else. Someone who won’t ask questions. Someone who has known her long enough to not need any of this explaining.

“Aubrey Posen.”

It still makes her smile that Aubrey has had the same ‘telephone voice’ since they met. It sounds like it’s a professional development, something she has done for her job, but Chloe knows the truth. Aubrey has always been a businesswoman at heart; she just needed to find a business to… woman.

“Hey.”

“Chloe! How are you? How… how’s Beca?”

Chloe likes that Aubrey asks. She likes that she cares. “She’s fine. I’m fine. I’m just heading back towards the subway and I thought I’d check in.”

“Check in” she can hear the doubt in Aubrey’s tone, “we do that every Sunday morning. It’s Saturday afternoon. Something’s up. Tell me.”

It’s for reasons like this that Chloe will always keep Aubrey close. She’s a good friend and she understands Chloe. Sure, she has a megalomaniac streak to her, but everyone has their faults. As far as Chloe’s concerned, Aubrey is loyal and patient and reliable. She can put aside her concerns about one day living in a dictatorship run by her (Beca would argue that, technically, they already have) for those kinds of qualities. Chloe doesn’t hide from Aubrey. There isn’t any point. Still, she keeps it vague.

“Do you have any regrets? Like, like about how your life is turning out?”

Aubrey sighs down the phone. “We talked about this when you graduated. Are you having doubts? So soon?”

“It’s just something Beca’s grandma said to me last night. It’s kind of stuck with me and I’ve been mulling it over all day.” Chloe doesn’t realise her hand is shaking until she lifts it to push her hair back off her face. “She was talking about how you have to go after life and take what you want and, well, I have a lot of regrets. I waited too long to graduate, I declared my major far too late, I really don’t know if being a vet is for me.”

“Okay, so…”

Chloe’s heart is pounding as she stops her friend in her tracks. “That’s not… I don’t want to talk about any of that stuff. I… I guess I’m more confused about something else.”

“Alright.”

“About Beca.”

Aubrey has never said anything out loud but Chloe has caught her looking at them. She remembers visits to the Bella’s house, the way she watched them move together around the space, the way she raised her eyebrows at someone’s off-hand comment about the fact that they share an armchair on move nights. Chloe has never been one for boundaries, not really, but even Aubrey could see that Beca gets privileges nobody else gets.

“She’s the one thing I don’t regret. Like, I don’t regret walking into her shower. I don’t regret coming to New York with her. I don’t regret fighting for her or fighting _with_ her because it turned out to be what we needed.” She isn’t sure who the ‘we’ is that she’s referring to, but it feels nice to say. “I think, when I’m older and I look back at this period of my life, I’ll question a lot of choices I made. But with her I don’t have a single regret.”

Aubrey pauses for a moment. When she speaks, Chloe feels as if her heart skips a beat.

“Are you sure about that?”

She knows.

“I mean, I might have one regret.”

“And what do you think Beca’s oracle of a grandmother would tell you to do about it?”

Chloe takes a deep breath. “Honestly? She’d tell me to turn the key. Start the engine. Move forward.”

It isn’t possible to hear a smile, but Chloe knows that’s what is happening on the other end of the line.

“She sounds a lot smarter than her granddaughter. You should listen to her.”

“Yeah?”

Aubrey lets out an exasperated breath. “Yes, Chloe. I mean, I’m glad someone finally seems to have pushed you over that line. Now go get on your train and get back to your apartment and _talk_ for God’s sake. Sit that little emo DJ down and get her to admit that a) she feels things like a normal human being and b) that everything she feels for you is covered in rainbow flags and glitter and surrounded by neon hearts.”

“Poetic.”

“I’m pretty sure if you don’t tell her, grandma Mitchell will step in.”

“Forrest.”

“My apologies. Anyway, deep breath, big girl pants on and turn that damn key.”

Chloe can’t decide whether she wants the train to slow down or speed up once she steps on board.

Suddenly, the thought of seeing Beca fills her with something she hasn’t felt in a long time.

Anticipation.

* * *

Beca thinks about Naomi from next door the entire way home.

Well, she thinks about what Naomi from next door has to do with Chloe. Why her grandma had picked that particular friend when there had been so many (alright, a handful) of others to choose from.

Why, she wonders, did her grandma hone in on that girl? Sure, she was nice and they’d had fun together but it wasn’t anything like her friendship with Chloe. For starters, she had never barged into her shower. She had certainly never heard her sing.

She had heard her music, though.

That had been the summer Beca had finally got her first ever laptop from her dad, complete with mixing software she thinks now that he probably copied illegally from the college music department.

She had learned to mix, taking hours to pick songs and put them together,

She’d hate to hear them now, she thinks. They must have been awful. Most of the summer was spent trying painstakingly hard to mash a song from ‘Wicked’ with a Queen track and some kind of beat track she’d made on Garageband. They weren’t her first choice of songs, she hadn’t even heard of the ‘Wicked’ one before, but it had been Naomi’s favourite musical and she had wanted to make her something to remember her by.

She had made her a mix, just for her, and slipped the CD into her hand before she drove away.

She had decorated the case with hearts. Hearts that surrounded their names.

Oh.

_Oh._

It is common knowledge that Beca never really had a group of friends who were girls. In high school, she found her bunch of weirdos and stuck with them in order to survive, but before that she had mainly hung around with boys. Boys who skated and played guitar and who taught her how to play video games.

Every so often, though, there had been a girl.

Always just one.

Beca would find herself drawn in and it would last all of a month- a month of sleepovers every single weekend and long phone calls and letters and listening to music together and finding every opportunity to hang out- before it ended in an argument that Beca didn’t know how to win. When that happened, she had a meltdown (grandma was there with tissues and cookies and watched her shout and stomp until it turned to tears) and then she went back to the boys who, most of the time, hadn’t even noticed she’d been gone.

Until Chloe.

It had always confused Beca that Jesse had been visibly jealous of her friendship with Chloe. She had tried her best to reassure him that there was a difference between boyfriend and best friend but he had never been fully convinced. Her friendship with Chloe had always been intense. It was obvious to anyone, but Beca had always explained it away; Chloe was intense so it came as no surprise that their friendship followed suit. She never really stopped to wonder why Chloe’s relationship with Aubrey or Flo or Jessica wasn’t at that same level. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to.

On some level, she had convinced herself that friendships with girls were simply always intense. They were always deeper and more symbiotic than with boys and that was that.

All best friends had sleepovers, didn’t they?

All best friends want to hang out all the time. That’s the difference between ‘friends’ and ‘best friends’, right?

And all best friends hold hands every now and again.

And, surely, everyone who is friends with Chloe finds her attractive? That’s just a fact of life.

Anyone else in her position would feel their heart begin to break in two at the thought of their best friend moving away.

It’s just what best friends do.

Beca never made Jesse a mix.

She has only ever made personalised mixes for two people.

Chloe.

And Naomi.

For a moment, she wonders what the difference is between them. She knows why she picked those two over everyone else in her life to make music for- they were the only people who understood how she communicated; the only two she could speak to through song. (She had tried it with Jesse, but it was his song, not hers, that she used.) The difference, she thinks, is time. Naomi was there through some hard moments, some really tough pockets of her childhood, and then she was gone. Chloe? Chloe has been by her side, and in her head (and her heart) and she’s never left. If she did, Beca thinks it could actually break her. She doesn’t know who she is without Chloe because, somehow, when she took up residence beside her, she handed her a piece of herself she hadn’t realised she was missing.

As Beca walks into Chloe’s favourite restaurant to pick up their standard to-go order, it hits her, the realisation of what exactly has been going on all this time.

As always, it slightly annoys her that her grandma got there first. (She thinks that, when she looks back, she wouldn’t have had it any other way).

There’s a speech spinning in her head by the time she makes it up the stairs.

It begins with an explanation for dating Jesse. It’s littered with words like ‘safe’ and ‘supposed to’ and ‘the right thing’ and ends with ‘just pretending’ and ‘numb’ and ‘not what I wanted’. She thinks about how she could possibly explain that she had somehow got Jesse and Chloe completely mixed-up in her mind; that they should both have taken the other’s role in her life story. She wonders about mentioning Naomi, about whether it would help to preface this revelation with some back story.

She decides against it.

It’s a waste of precious, precious time.

Instead, she begins to think of all the ways she can explain to Chloe why she’s choosing this moment to say it. Why, after all this time, the puzzle pieces have clicked into place on this particular day.

Maybe “it’s something my grandma said” is a little too loose for such a big confession.

Or, Beca thinks, Chloe would understand. After all, she can’t deny how alike they are.

It’s as she’s reaching into her pocket for her keys that Beca watches two of her neighbours walk past her and down the hallway.

Two women.

Hand in hand.

_“What would make you happy?”_ Beca’s grandma’s question repeats in her head.

She slides her key into the door and smiles to herself, certain she knows the answer lies on the other side.

All she has to do is open it.

* * *

Confidence is something that Chloe has never really understood. Her relationship with it is inconsistent and it hurts her head to try and figure out why.

She has always been forward. She’s pushed herself to the front and been the spokesperson for people who couldn’t stand up for themselves. She knows herself well enough to own how good she looks and keep it all in perspective. When it comes to the small things, Chloe doesn’t think twice.

The big things? That’s when Chloe’s confident air seems to disappear.

Making big decisions has never been her strong suit. There is too much overthinking and too many variables and there are always other people to think about. People she cares about. People who matter.

People like Beca.

Chloe has been staring at the UC Davis prospectus on the kitchen table. It isn’t where she left it. She knows Beca has seen it, just like she’s seen all the others, but it looks like she’s read this one.

Going back to college is a big decision. It’s a big decision because it involves changing just about everything she has come to know, only a year after leaving Barden and adjusting to _those_ changes. It’s a big decision because there are things in her life, now, that she doesn’t want to lose. Things (people; person) she has clung onto throughout all of it; things she doesn’t know if she can survive without.

She just wishes she had the words to explain it all.

She wishes she had time to think.

The door to the apartment opens with a click and Chloe can’t help but stare at it as it is pushed wide. Beca steps into the space and drops a bag of takeout onto the table. She shrugs off her jacket and, when it is halfway down her arm, she catches Chloe’s eye and lets it fall.

Chloe can’t take her eyes away. Not when Beca is staring at her just as intensely.

It’s like it’s some sort of competition. Chloe wonders what will happen if she blinks.

There are words, hundreds of them, in Chloe’s mind, but she can’t seem to put them in order. She can’t work out what makes sense to say first or if Beca would understand the things she said to Aubrey about regrets. She thinks about how she got here, about Maggie’s words and about cars and keys and starting the engine and, before she knows it, she’s walking across the room.

Chloe expects Beca to be by the door.

She hadn’t anticipated her moving forwards, too.

That hadn’t been part of the plan.

Maybe that’s why it hurts so much when their heads clatter together.

“Holy shit!” Beca’s hand flies to her forehead as they flop onto the couch, Chloe’s lands on her chin. They both stare at one another for a moment before the laughter erupts.

“Where… where were you going? I thought you were by the door.”

Beca shrugs. “I was coming to you. I…” Chloe watches as Beca seems to realise something. Her face changes. It’s subtle but Chloe notices. “Sorry. Are you hurt?”

“I’ll be fine. How’s your head?”

Beca pulls her hand away. “All good.” Her hand drops to her side and immediately begins pinching against the stitching of her jeans. “How was your day? Did you get to see the surgery? Sorry I didn’t reply much, grandma wanted my full attention.”

The mention of Maggie causes Chloe to stop.

She remembers _why_ she had been so intent on stalking towards Beca across the room. The feelings the knock to her face pushed down come back to the surface, already at a rolling boil.

“Chlo? You good?”

_No more regrets._

It’s all she can think. It’s like a mantra, repeating over and over in her head. She knows she’s stopped listening. She knows Beca has stopped talking. She knows because her eyes are on her lips.

_Turn the key._

Chloe leans in. Her breath is knocked from her when it is Beca who closes the gap. Soft lips brush against hers as a hand reaches out to hold her, to pull her close. It’s a gentle kiss, but one that is full of meaning.

One she never wants to end.

Beca’s fingers trace over her jaw as she pulls away. Chloe doesn’t miss the way she lets out a long breath.

“I… Sorry. I just… I couldn’t wait anymore.”

Chloe can’t help but smile. She shakes her head slightly and reaches out to take Beca’s hand. “Me too. I… I’ve been thinking about it all day. I guess we’re both sick of wasting time, right? It seems crazy to spend any longer pretending that this isn’t where we were heading.”

“Yeah, exactly. I just couldn’t go another day ignoring the signs. I… Chloe, you’ve been there the whole time. I know I don’t catch on to feelings-type things as quickly as other people,” the way she scrunches her nose as the word ‘feelings’ passes her lips makes Chloe feel warm inside, “and I know I took the longest route possible to figure it out but I’m there now and I’m never going back.”

“Never.” Chloe takes the opportunity, because she can, to lean in for another soft kiss. “We only go forward from now on. And we do it together.”

Beca smiles against Chloe’s lips. “Mmm. Together sounds nice.”

For Chloe, together means not losing Beca. It means knowing she’ll be there regardless of the choices she makes. It makes the big decisions a little less daunting.

“So, did I spot dinner?” Chloe lifts her head from Beca’s chest. “Can… I don’t want to move but I’m so hungry.”

“I’m not feeding you. Come on. Shift yourself.”

The food is put onto plates, like always. They sit across from one another, like always. It’s weird, Chloe thinks, that it’s almost as if nothing has changed at all.

Except it has.

“So why… why today? I think we were both planning the same thing, but I’m curious.” It’s Beca who asks first, after taking a sip of water. Chloe contemplates lying but considers that it’s probably a bad way to start whatever this is. So, she tells the truth.

“It was something your grandma said.”

Beca’s fork clatters onto her plate as she leans her head back, mouth open as she lets out a loud laugh. “Seriously?” She looks across at Chloe. “Oh, that meddling old bitch! You know she did the same to me, right? Came at me with all these sentimental comments about living authentically and regrets and going after what you want and…” Chloe can’t help but laugh now as Beca puts the puzzle together in her mind. “Well, I would be mad about it but she was right. I was being dumb- her words, by the way- about this. And, ah, I’m grateful. So. To grandma.”

She lifts her glass of water into the air and smiles directly at Chloe as she taps her own against it.

“To Maggie.”

“For once, I’m actually glad she didn’t listen when my mom told her to mind her own business.”

Chloe takes Beca’s hand and squeezes it tight. “Me too, Bec. Me too.”

* * *

“Ah, young love.”

When Beca and Chloe walk into the restaurant to join Laura and Maggie for breakfast the following morning, hand in hand, it is impossible not to notice the smiles on their faces.

“Excuse me, could we order four mimosas to the table please? Looks like we’ve got something to celebrate. Finally, I can die happy.”

Beca can’t help but roll her eyes at her grandma, but pulls her in to a tight hug. Maggie reaches up and strokes over her hair, the same way she did when she was little and- suddenly- Beca is fighting back tears. As she pulls away, she feels Chloe’s hand squeeze hers and, without a moment’s thought, she squeezes back.

“Something tells me you had something to do with this.” Laura tilts her head towards her mother with an accusatory look in her eye as they sit back down at the table. “I thought I told you to respect her boundaries?”

Surprisingly, Beca is the one to jump to her grandmother’s defence. “You know what, I would usually agree with you, mom, but I think on this occasion a little meddling was necessary.”

Laura smiles and it warms Beca’s heart. It reassures her, she thinks, that she made the right choice and leaves her wondering exactly how long her mother has known this was something she wanted. Something she needed in her life.

“I needed a little push.”

Beca watches as her grandma nods her head fervently. “Exactly, honey. It’s like I said. I love you and you’re beautiful, inside and out, but let’s face it, you were never going to major in psychology, were you?” Beca can feel Chloe shaking next to her as she tries not to laugh. “Someone had to give you a nudge and, frankly, time’s a tickin’ and neither of us are going to live forever.” It’s impossible to miss the way Laura opens her mouth to argue. Beca simply shakes her head, knowing it’s not worth a battle. Not when her grandma was right.“I’m just glad I got it into your thick noodle skull before I had to resort to a dirty tricks campaign.”

“Me too.” Laura finally speaks and Beca can see in her eyes that she’s calm and happy. It’s all she ever wanted. “Well, girls. Let’s make a toast. To getting our heads out of our asses before grandma got herself arrested.”

“Again” Beca mutters under her breath, smiling when she feels a kick from the older woman across from her.

“Leave it out or I’ll find my old VHS tapes of your one-person production of Annie and have UPS bring them straight to Chloe’s door”.

Beca can’t help the way her jaw drops. “Grandma” it comes out as a growl, “you would’t dare.”

Maggie simply shrugs. “She already knows about the wig.”

When Beca turns to Chloe, she can see how widely she’s smiling. “Ignore her. It’s, like, jet lag-induced dementia or something. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Sure, Bec. Whatever you say.”

When, as they wait for their food to arrive, Chloe excuses herself to the bathroom and her grandma follows, Beca realises that her mom has said very little. It’s not unusual, especially with her grandma tagging along, but she has questions.

“Mom?”

Laura puts down her coffee and looks across at her daughter. Beca can see she’s taking her time to truly look. It’s something she has always done. She used to call it ‘scanning’, like she was trying to read Beca’s emotions while her face tried desperately not to give them away.

“Yes, baby.”

“You’re okay with this, right? I… I mean, with me being…” Beca realises she hasn’t said it out loud. She hasn’t said it to her grandma or to Chloe or even to herself. She takes a breath. “Being gay.”

Laura reaches out to take her hand and runs her thumbs over her skin. “Sweetheart, there’s nothing you could tell me that would make me love you any less.” Beca’s lip trembles and she runs her teeth over it to try and stop it. “I always knew Chloe made you happy and I suspected you were attracted to her as more than a friend.”

Beca nods and takes a sip of her drink. “Did… did you already know? About me, I mean?”

“I wasn’t going to force labels on you, baby, but I saw the way you looked at girls growing up. I saw how you got attached and how desperate you would be to be close to them and I was there to dry your tears when it all went wrong. I…. I think the summer you spend with Naomi, before she moved away, was kind of my first clue but I just let you live. There was that thing with the German girl last year and I thought you were beginning to come to terms with it but, well, you were still with Jesse and…”

“Yeah, I’m still trying to figure that one out” Beca know’s she’s crying now. Tears splash down from her chin as she laughs lightly. “I think, maybe, I had to make sure, you know? Grandma… she said something yesterday about how you know what’s right because of how it makes you feel, not by what it makes you think. And I… I think I needed time to figure that out. To… to figure out that boys- even someone as special as Jesse- just don’t make me feel the things that…”

“The things that Chloe makes you feel?”

Beca nods her head and twists the ring on her middle finger around.

“And, just… I have to ask because I’m your mom, she does make you happy, right?”

“More than anything.”

“That’s all I need to know.”

They’re walking back down 57th, away from Park this time. It’s the reverse of the journey they took the last time. After seeing her mom and grandma off to the airport in a taxi, Beca took Chloe by the hand and led her back along the same streets. The route changes when they get to Central Park. They cross the street and walk along the edge. Beca knows exactly where they’re headed and, when they get to Columbus Circle and turn right, she sees on Chloe’s face that it’s dawning on her.

Slowly, the stark, sand-coloured walls of Lincoln Center appear before them.

“Bec, what are…”

At the back of the building, there is a set of double doors. When they finally reach the spot, Beca lets go of Chloe’s hand and looks deep into her eyes.

It takes her a moment, as always, to ignore the blue and get her thoughts in line.

“When… when we were here in my freshman year, I didn’t know why I had this, this urge to be close to you all the time. I’d never had a group of girl friends before, and I’d certainly never had a friend like you. All my friendships with girls before had been ruined or had fizzled out but I knew, then, that you were different.” Beca knows her thoughts are running ahead of her mouth and she takes a moment to let herself catch up. “I… I don’t regret taking my time. I think I needed all that time with you, learning how to be close to you and how to let you in, so that I didn’t panic and run when my heart got involved.”

It’s hard to know how to say it. Beca looks up at the doorway.

“You know, some of the best moments of my life happened in this building. When we won, that first year, that was the first time someone had truly believed in me and championed me. And it paid off. I…. I felt like I could fly. And that feeling, well, it was all you.” The tears are back, prickling at the back of her eyes as she finds Chloe’s eyes once again and sees her smile. “It’s always been you, hasn’t it?”

Chloe simply shrugs.

  
Beca thinks that, maybe, they’ve used enough words.

“I think I love you.” Chloe’s voice is just above a whisper.

Okay, Beca thinks, maybe there were a few more that needed to be said.

As she pulls Chloe close, hand cupping around her ear as her fingers rest against her hair, she can’t help but realise that- yet again- Lincoln Center is the backdrop to a moment that changes her life.

“I love you too.” The words come naturally, effortlessly, as she leans in and lets them turn into a gentle kiss. As Chloe’s lips brush over hers, she hears a voice in her head.

_What would make you happy?_

Like so many other questions in Beca’s life, the answer is this.

The answer is Chloe.

Beca thinks it always will be.


End file.
